


Le roi est mort, vive le roi!

by yujacheong



Category: Knightfall (TV 2017)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 04:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19863427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yujacheong/pseuds/yujacheong
Summary: An unexpected reunion on the streets of Paris.“Alms! Alms for the poor!” cries a cloaked beggar huddled in his vermin-infested alleyway.Landry pretends not to notice or hear; he has nothing on him which may be given in charity, anyway—“Landry, you pissant!!”





	Le roi est mort, vive le roi!

Landry du Lauzon stumbles through the streets of Paris. Dawn is many hours away. He is weak from torture, lightheaded from blood loss, dazed by the terrible but necessary act he has so recently committed against His Majesty, King Philip—

_The king is dead, long live the king!_

God willing, his brother Templars have already escaped the city in the ship they commandeered. They had promised Landry that they would wait, hidden, on the banks of the Seine for three days. After that, they would sail onwards to Lisbon, where it was hoped that fugitive Templars would find succor and continued support for their Order from the Portuguese Crown…either with Landry or without him.

He needs to get back to them. But he is so very, very tired, and it takes every last bit of will in him to continue putting one foot in front of the other. He is fortunate indeed that the Paris-wide hunt for Templars appears, at least for the moment, to have been called off – Lord knows he lacks the strength to fight fresh enemies.

Even so, as best as he is able, Landry sticks to the shadows of the most narrow, poorly lit, impoverished streets that he possibly can. Here, the stench is greatest, but the risk of encountering anyone besides a beggar is least—

“Alms! Alms for the poor!” cries a cloaked beggar huddled in his vermin-infested alleyway.

Landry pretends not to notice or hear; he has nothing on him which may be given in charity, anyway—

“Landry, you pissant!!”

Landry starts, stumbles, and turns toward the beggar in shock. He would know that voice and style of insults anywhere! The beggar is no real beggar at all.

“Brother Talus,” says Landry.

Talus angles his head slightly so that Landry can see his face beneath the deep hood of the cloak he wears. His eyes are bright and lucid, but his face is wet with perspiration and twisted with pain. With a sick jolt, Landry realizes that he must be injured.

“How badly?” he asks.

“Nothing a night’s rest won’t cure,” replies Talus. “A night’s rest untroubled by foolish Initiates,” he hastens to clarify – he has a reputation to protect!

Landry suspects Talus of understating the seriousness of his wounds, but he does not contradict the Initiate Master. Instead, he remarks merely, with deliberate lightness, “I see. Well, good thing I’m not an Initiate anymore.” Landry settles himself down on the ground beside Talus’s hunched over form - no waiting for an invitation. Their shoulders touch, and they lean into each other subtly. With a long-suffering greybeard’s growl, Talus rearranges the beggar’s cloak he wears so that it covers both him and Landry. Landry likes sharing a cloak with Talus, he realizes, likes the way it seems to hide them from prying eyes, from unwanted scrutiny, from the harsh judgments of their fellow men for what they have come to feel for each other.

Landry brushes his lips against Talus’s, tongue gently laving the cracked, split skin. He tastes salt. Sweat? Blood? Or tears? “We leave Paris together,” he whispers into Talus’s mouth.

Talus sighs and says nothing, but after a moment, he begins to reciprocate Landry’s kiss. Landry knows this for the assent that it is. There will be no dying. Not here. They embrace, bodies close, twined together. They may reek of blood and death; they may lie in filth and squalor. But the bond of love and loyalty between brothers remains unbroken and strong.

They are too exhausted for carnal passion. Nevertheless, they can rest here like this, and they will, and come first light they will escape Paris and sail for Portugal.

There is hope for them yet. They will not surrender.


End file.
